


Abdication

by Ariasune



Series: Axis [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariasune/pseuds/Ariasune
Summary: A debt of blood is paid in kind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork credited to ECHO [[twitter](https://twitter.com/rkgk_ngch)] [[tumblr](http://nagecho.tumblr.com/)] [[storenvy](http://nagecho.storenvy.com/)] [[pixiv](https://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=6689865)]

On the first night of peace, Akhnakanem’s son burned. He thrashed and cried, sweat-sleek through the second night, lay still and silent on the third, and when the fourth night broke, the fever had already taken him. From a dynastic point of view, Radjet, firstborn of Akhnakanem, was not important; within the season, his half-brother Atem was born, and if Akhnakanem watched Atem more closely than he should, Atem’s character suffered little for it.

But Radjet’s death cast a long shadow; someone gone, but never forgotten. Something precious that had been lost. A grief not soon forgiven. “It is not right for a man to outlive his child,” Akhnakanem told his brother, voice hoarse and face drawn. Akhnadin was silent; merely a comforting arm curled around the King's shoulders.

Atem grew headstrong, defiant as a wildcat, stubborn as sunlight, and when the secrets of the items were taught to Akhnakanem, his first thought was not of his brilliant, _rebellious_ second son, but of Radjet. Of the fire-death that had bloomed under his skin almost spitefully. How quick the sickness had been, to burn, and to turn Radjet's life to ash. The quiet of Akhnadin's consoling touch, the guilt of it.

Akhnakanem prayed for Atem’s soul, and grieved Radjet’s anew, knowing there was not enough blood in either to slake this evil. Knowing, and asking anyway, Atem still and silent at his shadow.

Atem would survive his father, but die before the river receded.

* * *

The God Pyramid was warm, a living weight in his hands, and Atem raised it over his head. Broke it open on the metal of his soul. They came apart, they cleaved together. Atem was shattered, the puzzle was torn open, and they were bound together tighter, so tightly he was surprised he could still breathe. The gasp came out like a shock. A shudder. A tide of life in his throat.

He hadn't died. A cooling body in Set’s arms. “It is not right for you to die,” Set said, long fingers cupping Atem’s face. “Not when you have saved us all. You _cannot_ die, Atem.”

Eyes glassy, grin feline, Atem laughed at him blood running down his jaw. Set -- of course -- dictating morality to the universe. Set -- of course -- calling his name after all these years.

On the first night, he bled. Bled from the mouth, and the eyes, and at the edges of his nails. A payment that would not be slaked, though Set did not despair, merely staunched at the blood with clean linen. Mana washed blood from Atem's face, and they called him by name when he drifted. Bidding him back to his body. By the second night, the matter of the blood solved itself; Atem’s skin was fragile as chalk, and there was no letting blood from a stone. On the third, the breath of him died slowly, Aset straining to hear each last, hoarse sound, and by the fourth night, still grieving by his side, clutching a cool hand, Set could not remember his friend’s name after all these years.

* * *

History was like a serpent, turning in on itself, and after all these years spent in darkness, he stared across the sand at Thief King Bakura, his name scalding in his heart. “You have to let them go,” Atem pleads, knowing it was a cruel thing to ask, but _asking_ anyway. "You can't live this way forever."

Bakura’s face twists, teeth showing in a sunbright gleam of anger. “I will _never_ let this go,” he snarls.

And maybe he really won’t, maybe none of them can; grief casting the shadow of life in everyone it touches. Maybe death is stronger than life, and loss takes, and takes, and _takes_ \-- but Seto Kaiba is a changed man, but Malik Ishtar and his kin live in the light, but Atem is not the King he once was, staring across glass-burned sand at Bakura. Neither of them are Kings, not anymore, not now.

He tries to reach out. He _tries_. He _tries_ , because Bakura deserves to live in the light, and of everyone Atem owes anything to, this broken, damaged monster is his brother. Bakura has made something between them, Akhnadin has fire-forged something between them, Atem cannot deny Bakura, he cannot, he  _cannot_.

The past sinks its teeth in, a snake killing itself for the sake of staying alive. Bakura reaches for Atem’s throat, for the broken item that rests between them as a wager--

There is a fire, started years ago, and running between them like rain. Horakhty burns Bakura away -- his darkness, his grief, his fury, his _loss_ consumed -- and the victory leaves ashes in Atem’s heart.


End file.
